As the Bell Tolls
by floatingxworld
Summary: Ashe's birthday has nearly passed and the person she most desires to spend it with has yet to appear. Written for fictactoe 1.4 down to the wire.


It was nearing midnight; the daytime hustle and bustle of the busy palace grounds long ago slowing to a halt, as a contented lull fell over the darkened spires of the Dalmascan royal house. The calmness of the fading day was broken only by the occasional rhythmic clink-clink, the metal upon metal of the night watchmen on patrol, or a distant warble of a Chocobo housed in the nearby royal mews. Inside the castle, the inner courtyard was dark, save for the blue spheres of magick suspended from hanging glass baskets on iron poles, illuminating the numerous pathways through the garden.

Here Ashe sat, amongst the immaculate rows of tall palms and hedges, flowering cacti, beds of sweet smelling perennials, and terraces garlanded with vines and bright spots of coloured flowers. Deep within the elaborate garden's maze of flora and fauna, she had discovered a small open space, with just enough room for the small stone bench that occupied it, a private spot, right under the nose of her councillors, where she could escape whenever she needed to be alone. It was her place. No, really it had become their place – he had made it so.

What seemed like a lifetime ago now, Balthier had found her here, as her coronation had drawn closer, the realities of her duties and the expectations facing her had sunk home. Ashe had tried to escape, even for a few hours, to think, alone. She wasn't sure how he had found her, or why, but he had. They had talked, until the sky had darkened and the garden lamps were lit. He eased her mind with simple conversation and wiry humour; her troubles seemed to float away. He had left, but returned soon after; it hadn't taken long for Ashe to begin to look forward to his visits and their conversations in the garden, concealed from away from the world.

Balthier visited her often at first, and then whenever he was in the area, which seemed to be less often as of late. He would materialise and they would spend afternoons secluded in the garden, hidden among roses and dogwood shrubs, away from the prying eyes of servants. They would fill the days speaking in hushed tones, laughing aloud together, and debating such things as literature and art. Then he would be gone again, sometimes for months at a time.

It had been six months since she had last heard of his whereabouts and eight months since she had last seen him. Her birthday had come and, very nearly gone, without him coming to visit. After all this time, it would be the first birthday he had missed since they had first met in the Garamsmythe Waterway. What had she, Ashe Queen of Dalmasca, done? She had cried, cried over a sky pirate. Bit by bit, she had foolishly given away the one thing she had locked away after Rasler's death – her heart.

Now Ashe was left wondering if those conversations she had cherished so much had meant the same to Balthier as they had to her. The times he had accidentally brushed her hand, and lingered more than proper etiquette would dictate when she handed him a goblet of sweet wine, or a piece of fruit she had nicked from the kitchens for them to share. Balthier had always smoothed over the awkward moments with roguish charm and a witty remark. Had the moments their eyes met and all the times their mouths seemed to be drawn together by an invisible force been a figment of her imagination? A flight of fancy? His chaste kisses goodbye, which had overtime migrated, had moved from Ashe's hand, to her cheek, to the corner of her mouth, yet never landed where she so dearly wished, had she made them into more than they were? Had she misconstrued them for more than a parting kiss between friends?

More and more she wondered if he would he ever return. Ashe wasn't sure; Balthier was as unpredictable as the skies he flew. One moment he was a gentle wind soothing her worries and small insecurities of ruling the land on her own. At times, a playful breeze teasing and flirting, sometimes a forceful gale charging off on some hunt for treasure and adventure palace life couldn't offer him. Then, he would be gone completely, leaving her like a ship floating on a vast stretch of ocean with no land in sight and no wind to carry it home.

Ashe didn't doubt he desired her at some point; it had been there in his eyes and touches. Was she just a dalliance he had grown tired of and forgotten? Had he moved on while she continued to stand still, waiting?

Just as Ashe thought this Balthier materialised out of the shadows, into their private sanctuary and smiled. He knelt down beside his friend and gathered her into his arms. His gentle fingers wiped away the tears from her face.

"Happy birthday, my love," he whispered. In the distance the bells in the great clock tower chimed, signifying the start of a new day and the end of Ashe's birthday. "I nearly didn't make it."

Ashe smiled through her tears and gave a watery laugh. "It was pretty close." She tried to wipe away her tears, they seemed silly now. "How long are you staying?"

Balthier smiled and pulled Ashe closer to him. "I was thinking about a long visit. I was searching for something before."

"And you found it?" Ashe prompted.

Balthier pressed a small kiss to the top of Ashe's head. "I have now."

This time, as he leaned down to kiss her, his lips landed exactly where she wanted.


End file.
